Manana

by Dayle Turner

Everyone's heard of the saying, "If at first you don't succeed,
try and try again." Well, that adage applies to my efforts to
crest out on Manana, which, if you aren't familiar with Oahu's
trails, begins at the very top of Komo Mai Drive up in Pacific
Palisades. I had probably hiked along the lower sections of this
six-mile trail maybe ten times or so but it wasn't until the
latter part of January '97 that I finally made it all the way to
the summit.

The first hour and half (about three miles) of Manana is superb,
almost freeway-like. The trail is wide, well-graded, and simply
a joy to hike upon. In that first section, I found myself
tramping up a paved road and then through a forested section
marked by gentle hills. In the first half hour, I passed
junctions that led down to the Ahern Ditch trail (this is on the
left about 15-20 minutes from the start) and Waimano Pool trail
(this is on the right a few minutes further up).

At about the 30 minute mark, the forest yields to blue skies and
open ridge. At that point is a distinct eroded section, now made
quite easy to traverse because of steps placed there by the state
trail maintenance crews. And a bit further up is a broad, grassy
plateau with sweeping views upridge and the unpopulated upslope
valleys of the leeward Koolaus.

I'd guess most folks hike to that point and not much further and
getting that far is remarkably satisfying. But I yearned for
more, and pressing on found the trail remaining wide and well-
maintained for another hour of hiking.

On one of my failed summit attempts, I made an error in judgment,
opting to wear a pair of not-quite-broken-in boots. The result
of my miscalculation were egg-yolk-sized blisters on the heels of
both feet and a ton of frustration when I had to stop at the
halfway point about 1.5 hours in and watch four other people hike
by me as I licked my wounds.

I had hiked the trail other times, but always in its lower
sections, usually as late-afternoon workout sessions.

When I finally made my successful trip topside, I was accompanied
by Dr. Pete Caldwell, a local pediatrician and proverbial jack of
all trades. Among other things, Pete dabbles in writing,
photography, canoe paddling, triathlons (he had competed in a
swim/run biathlon the morning of our hike), and basketball, both
as a player and as an avid backer of the UH basketball program.
Pete was great company, and he shared stories about UH players he
and his wife, Olga, had served as surrogate parents for.

Pete is also a veteran hiker of most of Oahu's trails, and he and
a couple of his buddies have a particular affinity for traversing
the summit spine of the Koolaus. I look forward to joining them
on one of their treks, most likely to Lanihuli and/or Konahuanui
to Mount Olympus. Should make for nice adventures to write
about.

We hiked along rapidly, reaching the halfway point (timewise), a
flat-topped clearing used occasionally as a helicopter landing
pad, in 1.5 hours. The spot holds some significance because a
week after Pete and I hiked to the summit with Pete, I returned
to the spot to campout with another hiking buddy, Bill Melemai.

At about 9:45 p.m., on that nippy (low 50s), mostly clear-skied
Saturday night, the sound of a helicopter two miles downslope
caught our attention. In minutes, the chopper, a military
Blackhawk based on its silhouette, was cruising less than a 100
feet above us for the first of a dozen or so passes.

It was obviously conducting a search, continuously cruising up
and down the ridges and valleys above Palisades until midnight,
sometimes flying well below ridgelines. Dangerous work, no
doubt. The Honolulu Fire Department, which usually conducts
searches for lost hikers, has adopted a no-fly-at-night policy
after a HFD chopper went down, killing three, while searching for
Wade Johnson in the Koolaus above Sacred Falls in 1995, hence the
involvement of the military on that night.

When Bill and I hiked out the next morning, at a point about an
hour down the ridge from our campsite, we noticed a ribbon
stretched across the trail, marking the spot where a rescue team
had hiked to the night before looking for a lost 22-year-old
whose plight was mentioned in the local paper.

I don't know if the guy was found or walked out okay. What I do
know is I never like hearing about folks lost in Oahu's
mountains, which has a way of embracing the unwary and unprepared
and never letting go.

Pete, because of his years of hiking experience, can never be
classified as unwary nor unprepared. His pack is chock full of
items that would be useful in case problems arise while in the
backcountry. In addition to the standard first aid kit, he
carries an emergency packet (from REI) that includes a tube tent,
space blanket, matches, fishing tackle, whistle, and more. Pete
also showed me a pliant but durable splint that could be used to
immobilize an injured ankle or other joint. Mister Preparation
is Pete.

The trail, wide open up to the helicopter landing spot, becomes
more rugged thereafter. Plan for the mandatory roller-coaster
hump-trekking that one comes to expect on ungraded ridge hikes in
the Koolaus. Relative to the first hour and a half, the path
narrows, although the ridge never becomes razor-like and
dangerous, except for a couple of sections near the top, and
these aren't bad at all if taken slowly and with care.
Plan on at least an hour and a half to reach the summit from the
the helipad.

About 30-40 minutes from the top, the trail swings noticeably
left to join another ridge to ewa that runs parallel to Manana.
It is in this section where care needs to be taken along the
narrowing ridge. Six to seven hundred feet below to the left,
visible were some small pools in the boulder-filled bed of the
south fork of Waiawa Stream's highest reaches. Pete told me
about descending a steep ridge to the stream on one of his prior
jaunts up Manana.

Almost exactly three hours after we shoved off from the
trailhead, Pete and I arrived at the Koolau summit (elevation
2,660) at an overlook of Kaalaea Valley, which is nestled between
Kahaluu and Waiahole. Compared to the topping out points of
Waimano and Aiea Ridges, the view of the windward coastline is
particularly spectacular from the apex of Manana. Just about the
entire span from Kualoa to Makapuu is viewable. Kaneohe Bay
stretched out before us as did the easily recognizable pu'u,
including Kanehoalani, Ohulehule, Kuolani, and Ma'eli'eli.

We kicked back at the summit for 45 minutes, Pete rehashing a
successful traverse of the Koolau spine to the top of the Waimano
Ridge trail and an unsuccessful attempt to reach where we were
from the summit of the Kipapa Trail.

We began our descent at around 2:30 and reached helicopter hill
by 4 p.m., stopping to chat with a young haole couple who had
just finished setting up a tent for an overnight stay. We were
back at our cars at 5:45 as the sun dipped behind the Waianae
mountains to the west.

I went home that night, showered, ate a big meal, watched some
tube, and, pleasantly tired, slept deeply, dreaming of success
achieved at last.